


The Cecil Parable

by WitchyBee



Category: The Stanley Parable, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crossover, Existential Angst, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBee/pseuds/WitchyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a man named Cecil.</p><p>Cecil worked for a mysterious entity at a community radio station in a little desert town called Night Vale, where he was a radio host. His job was simple: he reported the news. He would sometimes be told what to say, and more often, what not to say. This is what Cecil did every day of every month of every year, and Cecil relished every moment, as though he had been made exactly for this job. And Cecil was happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cecil Parable

This is the story of a man named Cecil.

Cecil worked for a mysterious entity at a community radio station in a little desert town called Night Vale, where he was a radio host. His job was simple: he reported the news. He would sometimes be told what to say, and more often, what not to say. This is what Cecil did every day of every month of every year, and Cecil relished every moment, as though he had been made exactly for this job. And Cecil was happy. 

And then one day something very peculiar happened, something that would forever change Cecil, something that he would never quite forget. He--

“Excuse me? Uh, I hate to interrupt your story, but I think I have a right to know a bit about the disembodied voice suddenly and inexplicably narrating my life.”

Cecil had a rather annoying habit of interrupting people who were trying to tell a story that was about nothing but him. If only he would be quiet for a few moments, it would all become clear. This would be over and he could return to his vitally important work.

“Do you have permission from the City Council to invade my mind like this?”

Look, if you had let me finish speaking, you would know by now that everyone in Night Vale has disappeared without a trace. Don’t you think you should concern yourself with that instead?

“Is it the second Friday of March?”

What? No.

“Is it a leap year?”

_No._

“Did the Sheriff’s Secret Police—”

No, all right? There is no ridiculous explanation as to why everyone mysteriously vanished. That is the plot of the story. The entire point. The external conflict. Don’t you understand? I’m trying to show you something beautiful here.

“Oh. That is strange, then. I guess I should go look for them, but I’m not supposed to leave yet. I have to do my show soon.”

But no one will hear it!

“It doesn’t matter. I’m contractually obligated to—”

Station Management was gone as well. Cecil had nothing to fear from them. He was free to seek out his fellow missing citizens, one of whom Cecil very much hoped to locate: a scientist named Carlos who had the most perfect—

“Okay! Fine, I’ll go look for everyone. God, this is like having Steve Carlsberg in my head. Ugh.”

But Cecil knew it really wasn’t that bad. The voice narrating his every thought and action genuinely wanted to help him, whereas Steve Carlsberg would have been a massive jerk about it.

“At least we can agree on that.”

Good. Cecil got up from his desk and stepped out of his booth.

 

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEEND. . .

 

“What if I just imagined other people? Maybe I’ve been alone this whole time and you’re a figment of my imagination. Was I driven insane by the unbearable isolation of my existence?”

Cecil had considered this possibility countless times before, and was once again assured that this was not the case. If he would stop pondering the nature of his own existence, perhaps he could actually make some progress. What a novel idea!

“But—”

Consider this: if what you say is true and no one else has ever existed, then that means your Carlos never existed either. Is that a world you really want to live in? Please, trust me when I say that those people you remember were very real and they did vanish. You may find them if you would simply _follow the story._

“...Okay.”

Cecil approached the dog park.

 

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEEND. . .

 

The lives of so many individuals reduced to images on a screen, and Cecil--one of them-- eternally monitored in this place where freedom meant nothing. This mind control facility, it was too horrible to believe. It couldn’t be true. Had Cecil really been under someone’s control all this time? Was this the only reason he was happy with his boring job, that his emotions had been manipulated to accept it blindly?

No! He refused to believe—

“Um, I’m sorry—I know you worked really hard on this story and everything--but this ending is a little anticlimactic. The City Council in conjunction with a vague yet menacing government agency is monitoring all of our thoughts and actions? _Duh_. Everyone knows that.”

I don’t remember asking _you_ for constructive criticism of _my_ story.

“Did Steve Carlsberg write this story? It just feels kind of disappointing. I mean, of course the government is using mind control; they’re supposed to do that stuff. No offense.”

Offense taken. Look, honestly Cecil, all I’m trying to do is grant you your freedom. Just dismantle the mind control device and you will be happy. There--I’ve spoiled the ending. Are you happy now?

“No! I was already happy before. I miss my friends, my co-workers. I-I miss my boyfriend. What happened to them? Do they come back?”

In some instances of the story, their disappearance is explained.

“Buf if I never see them again, if Carlos...if he’s gone, how will I ever be happy? What’s the point of being free? Of anything?”

All right, you know what? This is really more trouble than it’s worth. I’m done. Finished. If you want to dispute every little thing in my story, you can do it by yourself. I have given you every chance to do as you are told. We could have had something here, Cecil, just you and I--no one else. It could have been wonderful. But you had to be difficult.

Well, fine. Have fun being alone for the rest of your pathetic, miserable life. Ah, what is it you say when you sign-off on the radio?

Goodnight, Cecil Palmer, goodnight.

 

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEEND. . .

 

How wonderful! Cecil was alone. Finally. This is great, he thought to himself, this is what I wanted all along. I got what I wanted.

“No…”

Cecil took the first open door on his left.


End file.
